The Number Six- Person of Interest
by StaffSergeant
Summary: The Courier goes to take a little vacation. Too bad the Imperial Capital wasn't exactly what the brochure said it was. Revolution. Intrigue. A band of assassins dead set on murdering a tyrant. No matter the cost. Then again...It was a bit like the Mojave. Now a full story.
1. Chapter 1

The Number Six

Person of Interest

**Well, this might be one of the strangest things I've ever written. **

**It's a one shot for now but I may continue this if anyone's interested.**

**Fallout: New Vegas belongs to Bethesda/ Obsidian Entertainment**

**Akame Ga Kill belongs to Takahiro and Tashiro Tetsuya**

/

He had spent over six months in this joint and he was still...unimpressed. Not really angry but annoyed enough to show it. The Courier let out a puff of smoke as he looked out the window overlooking the street below. The Imperial Capital, it didn't have such an impressive name. It was big sure and grand but he felt that it was more akin to looking at a golden turd. Yeah it was nice looking and all but it was still a piece of shit.

And the crime rate. Christ fucking almighty, it was easier to keep track of who he _didn't _punch in the throat. Pickpockets, murderers, even rapists. To make matters even worse not only was the capital on the road to Shitsville it was surrounded on all sides by dangerous tribes. Even better there was a revolution growing both inside and outside the capital. Inside there was a jolly crew of assassins going around killing people left and right. Outside was the revolutionary army. Awesome vacation spot my ass, the Courier mused. He should have never taken a brochure from that asshole back in the last town he visited.

The Courier let out another puff of smoke as he finished off his cigarette in irritation. The Courier scratched his nose idly as he relaxed his shoulders. No need to be angry right now. The Capital may have been a miserable shit-pit compared to New Vegas but the pay was pretty good to be honest. Even if the 'nobles' here were corrupt, money grubbers they had connections. Connections meant ammunition. Connections meant power. That was how one took over a city, connections. Do favors for people and they owe you. And when everything was said and done, reap the rewards. Rinse, repeat. Simple as that.

The Courier, who usually went by the name Marcus, was a bit on the short side with a lean frame which was usually hidden by armor. His Elite Riot Gear lay in sections on his bed. The helmet which held a combination of low light optics and gas mask, was next to his left forearm. Its red optics glared ominously at the door. Marcus was wearing a dark colored shirt and baggy work pants. His boots were next to the door. The Courier had dark, tanned skin which was a result of his travels in the Mojave. His dark hair was short and unkempt. Cold indigo eyes glared out from behind his bangs. His sharp, young features said that he was in his twenties. His hardened eyes said that he was two hundred. The Courier was not the nicest looking sort and as one of the deadliest men in the Mojave it showed in his eyes just how far he had come from being buried alive in the graveyard of a small town called Goodsprings.

/

"Going out again mister Courier?" The Innkeeper said with a ratty smile. Rat Fucker, was what Marcus called the innkeeper out of earshot. He said his name was Gabe or something like that. He had a ratty face.

Hence why the Courier called him Rat Fucker out of earshot.

"Yep," the Courier answered politely as he clipped his helmet onto his belt. "Got a little social gathering going on, some noble wants me to escort his daughter at the ball. Folks have been disappearing so I've heard."

"Aye, the rebellion's been getting worse and..." Rat Fucker's voice got all quiet like and he leaned in close. "I hear assassins are out and about now."

"Well," Marcus said arching one of his brows. "Best be careful then. I'll be back in a few. Have a good night."

"Aye you too mister Courier," Rat Fucker nodded his head politely. "Please enjoy yourself."

/

Bodyguard duty wasn't exciting but if you were good at your job you got a bunch of recommendations.

Lord Amsel Brimley and Lady Brimley were fat, obnoxious and greedy. But they were, ironically enough, very generous with their money towards good mercenaries. Marcus, who had caught their eye back when he was busy choking the life out of some thief who tried to stiff him, was offered a simple job. When he was done blasting some poor bastard's head off with his gun, they were quite pleased with his results and offered more money as they were preparing a small party for their daughter. Amsel commented that he wanted everything to be perfect for their precious daughter.

So they wanted the best guards and since the Imperial Guard were currently getting slaughtered...

That same daughter, Janice Brimley, was currently chatting up one of her friends while he leaned against the wall just checking the area. Guards were on patrol outside and due to his own particular skill set he was one of the few allowed inside. Standing there in his full gear, Marcus wasn't approached by anyone especially after they got a glimpse of the guns he had on his person.

The ballroom smelled like shit, perfume permeated the place alongside several other odors of bodily nature. The Courier crossed his arms as one of the other mercs the Brimleys hired walked over. He recognized the guy as a man named Carver. Wearing a pretty good looking set of armor his skull like iron mask was strapped to his belt. A sleek looking assault rifle was slung over his shoulder. Marcus met Carver when he got hired for guard duty by the Brimley family. It wasn't a close relationship. But it was close enough.

Carver nodded grimly to Marcus who offered the man a cigarette. Both decided to smoke, the ballroom smelled like shit anyway. Who was gonna complain about a little smoke?

"Damn...these are good." Carver commented to Marcus.

The Courier shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. "Anything interesting?"

"Apart from passing by a gangbang in one of the corridors? Nah." Carver puffed out some smoke. "Sick fucks, the lot of them."

"Hey, they pay me well." Marcus said. "I'm good so long as they don't mess around with my paycheck."

"A true mercenary," Carver chuckled taking another puff. "I wish I had your fortitude."

Marcus took his own puff before letting out smoke from his mouth. He was bored. All those times he spent battling for his survival in the Mojave and he was _bored. _

"Well, in a city of sick fucks you learn how to take it." Marcus said with a scornful laugh. "Hey who knows? Down the line maybe we'll get hired to waste the lot of them."

"Jeez man turn it down!" Carver whispered harshly. "Walls have ears!"

Marcus shrugged and apologized. Truth be told it didn't matter to him either way. He had a plan for killing anybody he met, even Carver, cantankerous bastard that he was. The Courier finished his cigarette as the lights started flickering. The fuse box must be overloaded or something, goddamn idiots probably didn't realize how much of a drain having all these lights on was having on the fuse box. Far be it from him to tell these degenerates how to take care of their houses. In the Mojave he'd have killed to have one of those chandeliers in his quarters at the Big MT. Then again the Light Switches would have probably complained.

They flickered again and finally darkened. The estate was in total darkness and apart from what lights the city outside had it was pretty goddamned dim. The guests started murmuring in confusion. Janice Brimley looked upset and yelled at a servant to check what was going on. The young man who had his head between her legs also looked around confused.

Marcus pulled his helmet on as he shrugged his weapon's sling off his shoulder. It was a Brush Gun, a lever action rifle that fired .45-70 Gov't rounds. Beastly stopping power combined with high accuracy. It had shed more than its fair share of blood in the Mojave and in the six months that the Courier had spent in the Imperial Capital it was one of his favorite weapons in the Mojave.

"Damnit," Carver said as he chambered a round into his assault rifle. He pulled on his mask. "Looks like we have to earn our pay now."

"Cheers." Was the calm answer. "I'll go check out the fuse box, see if I can do something about this light."

"I'll stay here and make sure the guests are okay." Carver said. "Go man, I got a bad feeling about this."

/

In hindsight Marcus should have stayed with Carver. Yeah, he definitely should have stayed with Carver. Because as he ventured to the rear of the estate there were a shit load of bodies. Most of them were...unrecognizable. Marcus rolled over a dead guard and pocketed whatever cigarettes he had. The Courier stowed what he found then went on with his ghoulish journey to the estate's fuse box, looting bodies as he went.

Waste not, want not.

/

The fuse box was a fucking mess. Even with the experience he had, the Courier knew that there was no way to repair this thing without any spare parts. He wasn't about to go looking for parts anyway because there was no point. Gunfire had erupted on the other side of the manor.

"Damnit." Marcus swore as he ran towards the sound of battle. He had never fucked up this bad before...Maybe he could salvage this still.

Or not...

The Courier turned the corner and stopped, watching the girl with the giant pair of scissors cut a man in half. It would have been quite ridiculous if the situation hadn't been so serious. Shit.

"I'm sorry," The girl bowed then turned around to look him right in the eye. The Courier responded by standing up and opening fire. Blinking in surprise as the girl seemingly dodged his bullets the Courier kept firing until the girl slipped him.

He kept his sights trained on the area for a few seconds before a second bogey showed up. This one was a guy in what looked like power armor. Holding a spear. The Courier rolled out of the way, barely dodging the attack as the power armored warrior slammed the tip of his spear into the ground, at the very same spot he occupied a few seconds ago. The Courier, lying on his back, fired a couple of shots into the bastard. The rounds bounced off but the effect was enough for the guy to back off. The .45-70 Gov't rounds were only able to dent the guy's shoulder plates. He kept firing watching with some dread as the power armor moved gracefully into cover. He managed to scratch the bastard's armor but it would take a solid, accurate shot to actually punch through to get to the wearer of the armor. The .45-70 Gov't rounds were pretty powerful. He was punching through Deathclaws with ease back in the Mojave.

This was going to be a major problem.

Marcus got back to his feet and drew his pistol, A Light Shining in Darkness, and took aim at the girl with the gigantic scissors who was charging at him. He tapped the trigger twice sending a couple of rounds her way. She dodged them again and this time retreated with her armored buddy. The Courier kept his pistol raised then swore under his breath.

"Here we go." Marcus reloaded his pistol and rifle as he ran into the estate. Not good, not good. These guys must be Night Raid, the jolly group of assassins he'd heard about. Judging from those two they were a high class group. Marcus had faced down the Praetorians and the Legate Lanius himself. He wondered if these guys were just as good.

He chambered a round into his Brush Gun's receiver. The Courier would have to put them to the test then.

"Night Raid." Marcus smiled under his helmet. It was not a good looking smile.

/

"Targets have been neutralized." Akame sheathed her blade after finishing her gristly work. Behind the assassin lay several dead men. One was already succumbing to Murasame's poison. It mattered not how they died, so long as the target was taken down it was a good end to a long day of work.

As she walked outside she found her partners already waiting for her. Her brow raised as she saw the dents in Bulat's Incursio.

"Are you hurt?" She asked Bulat who shook his head.

"Nah, I'm cool." Was the answer. "But we did meet someone interesting. He's quite a marksman too, barely dodged everything he threw at me."

Sheele nodded in agreement.

Akame frowned. There was a report from one of the spies that a new mercenary was walking around in the Capital. Typically there was nothing to worry about but seeing the dings and scratches on Incursio made her think otherwise. This could get complicated. They had to report to Najenda quickly. The former Imperial general had marked him as a person of interest. More reports said that he had no Teigu to speak off, and yet he was quite the mercenary. It was like he just appeared six months ago. Already during that time he had blazed quite a trail as a ruthless marksman who never seemed to miss. Rebel, Imperial he didn't care who his target was so long as he got paid.

"Let's go home." Akame said turning briskly to walk off.

"You're hungry aren't you?" Sheele asked.

Bulat just chuckled.

The sound of an assault rifle being readied made all three of them stop.

All three Night Raid assassins jumped out of the way as someone fired a full burst of automatic fire at them.

"Retreat now!" Akame barked. "Our job is done!"

/

When they were finally gone Marcus finally revealed himself holding Carver's assault rifle. He sighed. Everyone was dead or had already fled the scene when Night Raid came around. It was just too bad that his employers were dead. Oh well, at least he could loot their shit before the Imperial soldiers came around. He smiled under his helmet.

Waste not, want not.

/

_Night Raid HQ_

"So you succeeded." Najenda finished her cigarette and ground it into the ash tray. "Good."

"There was one other thing." Akame said quietly as she sat down in front of her superior. "Bulat and Sheele encountered your person of interest. He opened fire on us."

Najenda frowned as she considered what Akame had said. Yes, she knew who this mercenary was. No Teigu but had the tendency of doing the impossible anyway. She had heard whispers of the man who calls himself the Courier. Several of their targets had been killed by this stranger. Mine, their resident sniper, said that most of those shots should have been impossible. To hear that from a crackshot Najenda was suddenly very nervous. And very impressed.

The Barley twins, ruthless guardsmen who were famous for their fighting style and high grade armor, were targets she assigned to Mine. When she returned Mine reported that both twins had been killed. Both targets had succumbed to headshots...from one bullet. These men had high grade body armor that was almost impervious to gunfire. The Courier had no Teigu or anything in particular apart from an old looking lever action rifle according to the reports and yet he still killed the both of them in one shot.

"In any case," Najenda shook out of her reverie. "You succeeded and the targets are dead. We'll deal with this Courier later. We have to step up our operations. Go ahead and take a break Akame, I'll be giving you a new target soon."

When Akame left Najenda reached into her pocket for the picture of the Courier. All the spy managed to get was a picture of the helmet he wore. Other than that...there wasn't much they knew about him. Should she recruit him? Probably.

He just might be the edge that she needed.


	2. The Man with no flag to follow

**Having garnered up some interest I decided to continue this. **

**Fallout: New Vegas belongs to Bethesda/ Obsidian Entertainment**

**Akame Ga Kiru belongs to Takahiro and Tashiro Tetsuya. **

The Man with no flag to follow

**(A month after the incident at the Brimley Estate...) **

_Happy Birthday to me..._

Murdering was dirty work. The Courier had been at it ever since he was fifteen. And he had never stopped murdering since he turned twenty five, which was today. And so, here he was in a world that was not his, but it might as well be. Prone on a hill overlooking a large farm with his rifle, he waited for his target to show his ugly mug. Here he was, ready to send a bad man to whatever afterlife awaited him.

Marcus forgot that it was his birthday for a moment as he sighted up. The Elite Riot Gear had recoil compensation materials woven into the armor. It bore a high level of protection and it had saved his life more times than he could count. For Marcus it was a testament his trials in the Divide, where he and Ulysses settled their accounts under the tattered flag of a dead nation. It was a reassuring weight that carried him through some dark times.

The Courier kept his sights on the man as he stretched...and slowly pulled the trigger. The Brush Gun barked. Marcus got to his feet as the farmer fell like a sack of shit on his little field. The large, fat boy that was the old man's son started yelling and waddling towards him. Marcus shouldered his rifle and killed him too. He was sure that his contact would enjoy two corpses. Well, two and a half if the fat son counted more than enough pounds for it.

/

"Mister Courier!" The old doctor looked very happy to see the Courier as he handed over the blood smeared cloth he used to mark that he had killed his target. Formerly known as Doctor Landon Grey of the Imperial Capitol, Grey was now a half mad man who dissected people for fun. At least he paid well. "Good to see you!"

"You as well doc," Marcus said politely and distantly. He preferred to simply incline his head politely instead of shaking the man's hand. Which smelled even through the filters. The man's fucking basement was bloody as a butcher's shop. He counted five fucking corpses in here hanging from meat hooks all of them in different stages of decay. One of them, he would have sworn up and down, looked like Dean Domino. It probably wasn't, then again who knows? Maybe he got blown away by a sandstorm too. Maybe the good doctor got to him before anyone else did. That would have been a shame. He had liked Dean for his sarcastic wit during his time in the Sierra Madre. They had met once after the Second Battle at Hoover Dam, he found the ghoulish bastard in the Tops Casino. As far as anyone knew no one recognized the famed Pre-War King of Swing.

They shared a drink before the Courier headed off to parts unknown. And he to conquer the Casinos of New Vegas.

"Ah yes, you got him." The doc looked happy even if his eyes were practically doll like. "Good, good."

"Got his fat son too..." Marcus added.

"Fat bastard right?" The doc laughed, the sound was disturbing especially since the doctor's eyes were empty. "Yes! Two dissections! I am very satisfied with your work Courier! I'll take care of the rest, here is your payment!" He rolled out the coin and Marcus took the payment without question. Blood money. He smiled under his helmet.

Blood money.

_Happy Birthday to me. _

_/_

It was going to be another rainy night. The Courier looked up at the grey sky before heading back to the inn. His groceries were in hand. As he walked down the street he took a look at the bounty posters hung up on a nearby wall. More of Night Raid it seemed, Marcus paid it no mind as he headed back to his room.

The first floor was loud and boisterous as usual, servant girls waved at him and he politely gave them nods before heading back up to his room to count his money and to oil his guns. The Courier unlocked his door and settled back to rest for a little bit before heading into the bathroom to wash up.

He looked himself in the mirror and realized he hadn't been shaving. A rough beard was growing on his face. The Courier was going to shave but decided against it. Now in a fresh set of clothing Marcus ate a small dinner quickly before getting to work oiling his guns. When he was done he rolled up a smoke and just lazed around until he was sleepy. He wasn't much for birthday parties although the extra ammunition he managed to buy for his guns was enough of a birthday gift for him.

The Courier smiled as he went back to bed.

_Happy Birthday to me. _

/

The next morning was a humid, gloomy day. As Marcus walked he nearly bumped into a familiar figure.

"Ah! Mister Courier!" The girl with the auburn girl waved enthusiastically at him. The Courier just politely waved back.

"Hello, Seryuu." He greeted her courteously. "You on patrol?"

"Ah yes!" She gave him a salute. "I must always be on my guard! You'll never know when an evil-doer is plotting his schemes!"

Seryuu Ubiquitous. Member of the Imperial Guard, a disturbingly spunky young woman with an obsession for bringing men and women to justice. In a way Marcus was reminded of his childhood...before he learned how easy it was to kill someone. When he had first arrived in the capital he had been accosted by thieves. Those thieves had been spotted by Seryuu who killed them all in a fit of rage. She then smiled at him and asked if he was okay. After that meeting they met usually once or twice on the street when she was on patrol and he felt like walking around and exploring the Capital.

Marcus wondered why he didn't run away from her. Or kill her right then and there. Seryuu was fast though and the little dog that followed her everywhere gave him some pause. Seriously the thing may have been adorable but there was just something off it. Seryuu called it a Teigu, whatever the hell that was.

Still, a couple of plasma grenades would probably fuck her and the dog thing up real bad. Not to mention a point blank shot to the head.

"Well that's good," The Courier gave a smile as he banished his murderous thoughts. "Anyway I was just going to go get a cup of coffee. Care to join me for a little bit?"

Seryuu beamed but she shook her head. "Sorry, I'm on duty." She said. "Perhaps another time?"

"Ah well, sure. No harm done." Marcus shrugged. He gave another one of his polite smiles. "Do be careful Seryuu, lots of bad people are running around."

"I'm always on guard!" Seryuu assured him and waved good-bye as she went off to do God knows what. The Courier let the smile he plastered go away before heading to the coffee shop. He didn't expect his client to be there, the guy looked rather shady but then again he had far worse surprises.

He hoped the coffee would be good though.

/

The Courier stared at his coffee for a little bit before taking a careful sip. "You know," he said to the occupant of the table behind him. "If you wanted to meet you could have picked a less conspicuous spot."

"Look man, it's not like I wanted to meet here. I'm being watched." The young man looked like shit. Jittery motherfucker looked around him. Marcus just acted calm and cool as he sipped his coffee.

"So...what's the job and what's the payment?" He asked quietly.

"My boss, I want his ass dead."

The Courier sipped his coffee. "Wow, that is so specific I want to do it for free." His sarcasm was biting. "Seriously mister, you have to do better than that." He tried the cake and was rewarded with a sweet, chocolate goodness he had never tasted before.

Damn, the cake was seriously very good. He made a note to pass his compliments to the baker.

"Fuck you." The man said. "They said you do any job!"

"For a price, dipshit. So if you want something done you better give me some info." The Courier smirked as he finished his coffee.

"Alright, alright." The young man fished out a note from his pocket. "Here, he's the dude who owns this brothel. Fucker left me for the dogs the moment the Imperial Guard started sniffing around for contraband. Now I lost most of my fingers. I want his ass dead."

"And the price?" The Courier asked.

/

The brothel was a gaudy establishment a few blocks south from the inn he was staying at. Getting in wouldn't be a problem. Those gangers though...They had submachine guns and high quality swords. He bet those weren't the only guys armed. Too bad he had his own armaments to bring to the party.

The Courier checked his weapons, a Gun Runner Exclusive known as Sleepytyme was in his hand. It was a silenced 10mm submachine gun with an integrated suppressor. High fire rate with decent stopping power it was a powerful close quarters weapon with applications in stealth. He holstered A Light Shining in the Darkness next to Blood-Nap. Pulling his helmet on he walked across the street towards the brothel. It was already midnight and few citizens were out and about.

Perfect.

"Hey buddy," One thug said as he approached. "No one's allowed in unless ya got an invite from the boss."

The Courier unveiled Sleepytyme. "Here's my invite," he told him and put a burst of 10mm Hollow Point rounds into the thug's torso. As the other thug stared in shock and terror the Courier opened fire again catching the bastard in the head. Two down. Marcus unsheathed his Blood-Nap, reversed his grip on the knife and kicked the door in.

Inside the brothel were a total of ten gangers, a few more in private booths that heard the noise. Marcus activated VATS. The world seemed to slow down. _Two on the left, ninety eight percent, head. Three on the right, ninety percent, head. Perfect. _The Courier fired his SMG, five men died. He activated VATS again and let the gangers have it. 10mm rounds flew through the air as the Courier blasted every ganger he saw. The whores and serving girls hit the floor screaming bloody murder. One ganger tried to slice off the Courier's arm with a sword. Sidestepping the highly telegraphed blow Marcus shoved the man's blade aside with his bracer and gutted him with Blood-Nap he threw the body off his blade and fired the last of his magazine into the next charging ganger. The Courier sidestepped the falling body. Reloading quickly he turned Sleepytyme on the emerging gangers from the back. Each man took a full burst and they danced to the 10mm rounds punching into their bodies before falling into broken heaps.

/

Boss Wiggum of the Wiggum gang woke up to dying screams. The big man rolled over in his bed to grab his handgun when his door burst open. Some guy in a horrifying set of armor stood in the door way. He held a bloody fighting knife in one hand and a matte black submachine gun in the other. The man raised his weapon and tapped the trigger.

The whore on the bed screamed as bullets whistled past her head and into the room. Wiggum coughed then gurgled as the 10mm rounds punched into his fat body. The gang lord then died as the bullet wounds finally took their toll. The girl on his bed waited to get shot. She peeked through her fingers at the armored killer who simply turned aside to present the open doorway. He gave a polite gesture for her to leave.

She ran without a second glance.

/

Marcus walked out back into the bar. All over the floor was the Wiggum gang, all dead. They didn't have any sort of body armor and most of their guns were cheap semi autos. Perfect. Marcus began his ghoulish habit of taking apart weapons. He sat at the bar, seemingly content amongst the dead gangbangers, disassembling all sorts of pistols looking for spare parts he could cannibalize for his weaponry. One man had a decent looking rifle that he barely used. Marcus took that and went through the parts, smiling underneath his helmet.

Unknown to him an Imperial Spy had seen the entire thing and had gone to report to his master.

Night Raid wasn't the only one who was observing him.

/

"So...It seems that this Courier is quite skilled." Prime Minister Honest was known for many things. Food was his favorite thing of course. As he devoured a finely roasted pig his spy kept his head down as he bowed to one knee as he reported his observations of the man who called himself the Courier.

"Yes lord," the spy said. "A total of twenty men died by his hand. These gang members belonged to the Wiggum Group, which has been causing us trouble in the industrial district."

There was no information whatsoever on this stranger. In fact, apart from seemingly appearing out of nowhere six months ago, Honest himself would have simply ignored the stranger if not for the insane body count he left in the Capital's underworld. In a matter of months several large crime syndicates had found themselves disassembled not because of subtlety but because the Courier had simply decided to walk into their estates and kill everyone there.

But it wasn't just lowly gangbangers he just killed. A noble who had ties to the Rebellion had also been struck down by this man. His carriage had just exploded when the noble was on the way home. The explosion had caused quite a panic. What intrigued Honest was the subtlety of the assassination. In fact he didn't even know the noble had been a target before the explosion.

The Prime Minister, a bit more curious now, sent out his spies to gather any information on this man. One thing he learned was that he took any job at any price... if he felt like it. The large man grinned fiercely.

He wondered what would happen now.

/

Marcus finished his cigarette and ground what was left into the ash tray before leaning back in his chair. Today was not bad at all even if he got a paltry amount for the gang leader he killed. The spare parts were more than worth it. As he finished polishing his Brush Gun's barrel he felt the hairs on the back of his hand stand up.

Then he heard footsteps outside his door. The Courier didn't like their sound, usually the inhabitants of the inn had a heavy trod in their step. These seemed far too cautious to be normal. He drew his handgun and pulled a flashbang out from his backpack.

He expected some gangers who were pissed at him but he also considered the possibility of Night Raid coming after him or the Imperials. Whichever didn't matter to Marcus at all. But if they thought they were gonna take him easy then they were dead wrong. Many have tried to kill him. None have succeeded so far and it would be quite a shame to end his days in a shabby room in an even shabbier inn.

/

"Hey there!" Leone expected an easy fight, she was not expecting the flash bang that promptly detonated as the Courier threw it at her feet then covered his ears and opened his mouth. Her ears rang and she was momentarily struck blind. Lionelle would fix that soon but for now the blonde was incapacitated. She staggered once and the Courier smashed the stock of his Brush Gun into her side to get her out of the way.

"Bye." Marcus said as he hurriedly slipped his helmet on. He was made. It would probably be a good idea to go and find a new place to stay. He ran down the stairs taking two steps at a time. Rat Fucker looked bewildered and his confusion only increased as Marcus shoved a bag of coin in his hands.

"For the damages." Was the answer before Courier number Six stepped out of the inn and ran down the alley. The inn owner only gaped as an angry blonde woman ran after him seconds after.

/

"He's running." Mine told Akame. "And Leone's after him. She doesn't look too happy."

"The man is clever," was Akame's stoic answer. "But he's headed exactly where we need him to. Tatsumi and Bulat should be okay to deal with him."

"Humph," Mine said. "I bet he's not that tough."

/

The Courier, irritated at the turn of events, made a quick turn crouched and aimed his Brush Gun. Firing twice he saw the blonde chick that was coming after him dodge those bullets. Muttering to himself about cheaters he stood and made a beeline for the next alley, dropping another flash grenade to slow his pursuer down. She was learning though and she had take to the roofs. This was bad for the Courier because he'd have to stop and actually throw his flash grenades which would slow him down. The Courier loaded rounds into his Brush Gun.

All right then, she wants to play? Fine.

He didn't see the Power Armor that promptly smacked him into a wall.

/

"Nice job Bulat." Leone said as she dropped down from the roof with a happy grin. She winced. The blow she received was healing but it hurt quite a lot. Bulat merely nodded his head.

"He's a tricky one isn't he?" Bulat asked. "Still, he's quite the marksman."

"Yeah," Leone agreed grinning. She lost a lock of hair and almost one of her ears when she was chasing the Courier. That and his little flash grenades were quite potent. "But hey, we did catch him right? I hope you didn't hurt him too much Bulat."

"I held back," Bulat chuckled.

Tatsumi stared down at the Courier they had caught. When he decided to partner up with Bulat after Sheele's death he didn't know what to expect. Najenda ordered them all to try and capture the man known as the Courier, she wanted to talk.

When Tatsumi asked why they had to use force everyone looked at him as though he were stupid before realizing that he probably never heard the full story on the Courier yet. He had only joined Night Raid days ago after all. So he got the short and sweet version: he was a dangerous man that Najenda wanted to talk to.

"Uh...Bulat?" Tatsumi said turning to the power armored figure of his mentor. "Shouldn't we-" An arm wrapped around his neck and Tatsumi found himself a hostage, a large knife to his throat. The Courier glared at Leone and Bulat from behind Tatsumi as he pressed Blood-Nap's edge to his throat.

"One more move." The Courier warned them. "And the boy dies."

"You think that will stop us?" Bulat said pointing his halberd at the Courier.

Marcus simply made a cut on Tatsumi's throat, not deep just enough to cause some bleeding, Leone and Bulat moved at the same time before stopping themselves.

"Yeah it can," Marcus said, his voice muffled by his helmet. Tatsumi tried kicking him in the shins. The Courier rapped the side of his head with Blood-Nap's pommel. "Because you actually all care about this kid don't you?" He nodded at Bulat. "Nice seeing you again by the way, how's that glasses girl?"

"She's dead." Bulat answered simply.

"For what it's worth, you have my sympathy." The Courier told him, a strange statement for a man holding a knife to a hostage's throat. "Now then, what exactly did you come after me for?"

"Let the kid go and maybe we'll tell you." Leone said with a hint of a threat.

"Sorry, not gonna happen. Unless you disarm first, this kid's my shield. So...what're you gonna do?"

Bulat and Leone looked at each other and relaxed their postures. The Courier sighed. Well, okay then. He let the boy go and lowered his knife.

"Just like that?" Leone asked.

The Courier smiled under his helmet. "Just like that."

/

_Night Raid HQ_

Najenda sat and the Courier stood. With her one remaining eye she scanned the Courier's armor noting how intimidating it looked and it just wasn't for show either whatever materials it was made of it was quite durable. The helmet, a combination of low light optics and gas mask, was clipped to his belt. It's red eyes glared balefully at her. The man wearing the armor was a bit on the short side, average looking with tanned skin and unkempt black hair. His looks told her he was in his twenties but his hard, cold indigo eyes said he was in his hundreds. Najenda had seen older men who had younger eyes. There was a distinct feeling of danger coming from the man. It was extremely potent but it wasn't directed at her.

"You're the boss?" The Courier asked.

Najenda nodded. "Yes I am," She looked at him curiously. "I would like to ask who you are and what you are doing here but I'm sure you won't answer in a manner that I would like."

"I'm just a Courier ma'am." Said Courier answered stoically. "Nothing more, nothing less."

"And the guns?" Najenda gestured to the lever action rifle in front of them. "You're heavily armed for a mere package Courier."

"Hmm, well let's just say that the roads I've walked were all dangerous. I find myself passing through territory no human would dare cross. I've been out there long enough to know that wandering around unarmed is foolish." The Courier explained with a chilling smile. "But that's not what I'm here for is it? You're gonna ask me a few questions and I want to ask mine."

"Very well, you are right." Najenda said as she fished out a cigarette from her pocket. The Courier reached into his coat pocket. Najenda felt Akame tense beside her. She relaxed when the Courier produced a lighter and flicked a switch to light it up. Najenda nodded gratefully and leaned forward, letting the Courier light her cigarette.

She let out a puff of smoke. "I want to recruit you into Night Raid, seeing as you have an exceedingly remarkable proficiency in murder."

"Well, gee thanks." Marcus looked at Akame. "But what's in it for me? Do I get paid?"

"Quite," Najenda said. "And you would be shaping this country's future for the better. I am sure you've seen the state this city is in."

"Well, it is a complete shitpit from where we're both standing. But..." His eyes turned hard. "I have killed just as many corrupt rebels as I have imperials." Najenda narrowed her eyes. "I do agree with your principles but I want to be sure that you are as good as you say you are. Otherwise I won't be very happy with you will I?"

Akame's hand strayed to the hilt of Murasame. The Courier had done the same for the handgun holstered at his side.

"You are right." Najenda said with a cold smile. "There is no justice for our deeds. All we are doing is cleaning out the trash, even if it means killing every single person that stands in our way."

That set the Courier off. He started laughing. It was a rich sound but it set Najenda on edge.

"A lot of people say that but you guys? Damn..." The Courier shook his head. "All right, sure...I'll join."

Najenda chuckled. "Welcome to Night Raid, Mister Courier."


End file.
